Into the Unknown (Frozen 2 Character studies)
by Leialden
Summary: Character studies/little moments in the daily lives of Elsa and Anna post Frozen that may end up weaving in some Frozen 2 plot about the origins of Elsa's powers.
1. Chapter 1: Elsa

A surge of adrenaline flooded through her as the ghostly specter of the ship came into view. She knew it was the one, among the mammoth cemetery of half frozen, half buried ships— that was the one. That was _theirs._ There was no mistaking it. Even at that distance she could make out the large rosemaling detail carved into the side of the ship— but only part of it. The other half of the design was hidden below the icy fjord, and guilt hit her hard in the chest. How had she let this happen?

A gust of wind slammed her to the side as if to answer the unspoken question— _your fault_ —it hissed, and sent her sprawling to the ice. She landed with a thud and pain shot through her hip, but didn't stop her momentum as she rolled. Quickly up and to a run she pushed herself with a grimace, the pain from the fall fading as the gravity of the scene once again enveloped her. How many people had she doomed to these icy tombs? In a flash she could picture them all— trapped, terrified and freezing to death— unable to move or fight their way out...

" _Please…_ _Please…_ _Let them live…"_ She prayed into the wind. Tears started to form, but she blinked them away.

What a terrible selfish queen she was going to make.

Keeping only the ship with the rosmaling in her sights she pushed towards it on burning legs and lungs, ignoring all else.

 _Selfish._

If she could just get them out quickly then she would start rescuing the others, but why wasn't that damned ship getting any closer? The faster she ran the further away it seemed to get, as if she were running down one of the long never-ending corridors of the castle.

A loud sonorous crack resounded then, reverberating heavily through her chest, the jolt causing her stomach to fly up into her throat in terror.

In slow motion she watched the ship tip horrendously to one side; the low moaning sound it made was ghostly and unnatural.

The ship was breaking in half.

Mid stride she splayed out a hand and, in a long sweeping motion, blasted away the ice around the ship's hull with a yell. Still sprinting, she could hear the vessel whine as it was jarred loose, and saw it slowly begin to sink into the hole she had created.

Skidding to a stop, she planted her feet, pulled back both hands and thrust them forward in one powerful, low-sweeping arc meant to solidify the water around the ship— but she, caught off balance from the force of the motion, fell flat on her back.

Head still spinning she quickly sat up— what she saw brought bile to her throat. The ship had slipped further into the watery hole she'd created— and it was going down _fast._

Horrified, she scrambled to her feet and flung her arms at it again…

Nothing came.

Nothing.

No ice, no snow or wind.

Again she flung her arms in the direction of the ship.

 _Nothing._

With eyes locked on the sinking ship she began swinging blindly, savagely at her target, screaming in desperation with each thrust.

' _Your fault…'_ The wind hissed as it slapped her again.

Her fault. Her _was_ all her fault.

With a scream that felt oddly detached from the body creating it, she smacked the wind back with flailing arms, her breathing coming faster; quick, sharp, panicked gasps as she watched the ship slipping further under.

She had lost her powers?

Now? After years of praying, _wishing_ that they'd vanish, _now_ is when they decide to abandon her?

A final violent swing brought her crashing to her knees, where she stayed hunched, panting as wild haunted eyes met the tip of the mast as it glided silently, seamlessly under the water.

Then it was gone…

 _They_ were gone…

"No!" She screamed, a hoarse cry that hung suspended in the air.

"No!" Her fists pounded down. Bone struck solid ice, but oddly there was no pain nor quaking of the ice as there should have been.

Then for a brief moment there was nothing. Nothing within, nothing without. Silence and frozen tears. Only the shrill echo of her faraway scream lingered, and the terrible pounding heartbeat in her ears.

Then: Ice broke.

Ice beneath her hands and knees broke so suddenly, so violently, that there was no time to react before she was sent plummeting through it and into the dark sound, choking on the thick dark water.

Elsa's eyes opened to blackness. The silence of the night encased her like a tomb— still gasping for breath she shot upright, her eyes flicking around in panic, coughing from the thick water that had been choking her.

A small beam of moonlight streaked across the floor and she locked onto it, desperate for a shred of reality to grasp, still not convinced she wasn't underwater.

Unceremoniously she lurched out of bed, ignoring the ice that crunched underfoot, and rushed to the doors of her balcony throwing herself out into moonlight. She leaned on the stone railing and let the cool air wash over her face and pounding head.

The vast fjord spread out below her, calm and dark and she stared at it for a long moment, willing the last vestiges of the nightmare to dissolve.

Her parents.

Everything always came back to them.

With a long breath she dropped her head down into her palms resting on the stone railing.

Why couldn't she move past this?

She still needed them.

Could she make the hard decisions when the time came without their guidance? Did she know everything she needed to know? Had she prepared enough? Was there something she had missed, some small detail that could plunge the kingdom into chaos? Could she control her powers indefinitely? Did she really have the stamina, composure and self-control to perform as expected and under such constant scrutiny, every day for the rest of her life?

Truly, she didn't know. She was so young, just beginning her reign really— there were still so many years ahead, and the looming weight of them was crushing.

But she did have Anna.

A wave of nausea rolled through her.

If she failed, it would once again be Anna who paid the price. Oh she knew if it all became too much and she couldn't do the job anymore Anna would. Anna would take the burden from her in an instant like she had tried to do so many times before, and there was some comfort in knowing that at least. But she wasn't going to allow it to come to that.

No. She _couldn't_ allow that. Not ever. Anna was free— free to live her own life, and she intended to keep it that way. Anna did not want to rule, even if she never out rightly said it. She had seen the flicker of panic in Anna's eyes when she had thought her sister was never returning to Arendelle. Beneath the fear of losing Elsa, was a flash of sheer hysteria in Anna's eyes— one she recognized well from herself. The weight of knowing you're to lead a kingdom alone. A heavy burden she would wish upon no one. This she could save Anna from, and she would.

Elsa lifted her head from her hands, and gazed out over a perfectly undisturbed portrait of the celestial landscape above as it reflected off the glassy water of the fjord, far below. Stars glistened off the water like spectral entities, interrupted only by the sharp, inverted reflection of snowcapped mountains and wispy auroras that danced with them.

She took a deep breath, focusing on the sharp mountains in the water and let the stillness wash over her.

How had her father done it? She knew what stressors the job entailed, she'd watched him for years, and yet never understood how he always had everything so calmly under control. Where she was constantly on edge and imagining the worst, he was always completely at ease and optimistic— and usually right. He knew when to be serious and when to be funny. He knew exactly who he was, and everyone else knew it too. He was so good at it, and Arendelle had thrived under his rule.

She smiled at the thought of him— Anna was so much like him. She too knew exactly who she was, what she stood for and never wavered. They were the type of people with the charisma and optimism to lead a kingdom, not her.

She could see his laughing face as the imagery on the water pulled her tired eyes down deeper, darker into it's consuming depths, and she allowed herself to sink down into the pain, letting her peripheral vision fade away as she became immersed in a dizzying pool of color, darkness and stardust. She never imagined a time would come when he wouldn't be there to help her, and it hurt. It hurt to think of him, but it hurt more not to.

She swayed slightly forward over the railing, the sensation of odd equilibrium and vertigo taking hold of her, gripping, pulling, demanding she not look away from the water. Her eyes roamed slowly, deliberately over the celestial map laid out before her, carefully examining every blip, detail and twinkle, searching for some bit of direction or meaning…cohesion or continuity… a pattern or structure… _anything_ that made any kind of sense— yet she found nothing. Only confusion, chaos and uncertainty.

Who was she? Did she even know? Did anyone else? How could she possibly lead others when she had no idea who she was?

The shadow of a ruler no one had seen for years, come to light only to be exposed as a monster- abnormal, reticent, _dangerous._ Then on top of that was her natural disposition that felt so wrongly opposite to what she probably ought to be. She liked to read. She liked theories and facts— and being alone to contemplate and study those theories and facts and the possibilities they held— especially regarding the origins of her strange frozen abilities. She would never be sociable, talkative Anna. Anna could talk to countless strangers for hours about any and everything— engaging conversation too. She had so many interests, hobbies and hopes and dreams to speak about and lit up whenever she could engage people about them. Her passion and enthusiasm took hold of the conversations in a magical way and people would leave her, always happier then when they came. She'd seen it time and time again. She'd experienced it herself, time and time again. Anna was infectious like that, able to transfer her positivity and hope to a person even when they were completely shut off from it.

That's what Arendelle needed, not this shadow of a queen, desperately self-absorbed in a quest to understand herself.

Her eyelids fluttered suddenly as a small ripple passed over the waters surface, causing the pristine reflection to waver and distort. She straightened and stood upright— too quickly— and her vision went painfully black for a long breath. Her whole body tingled in suspended blindness, unsteady and detached, she stood gripping the railing, waiting for the unpleasant yet familiar head rush spell to pass.

Slowly her vision returned and she could feel her head pulsing with relief. Her eyes were dry, it burned to blink but she could see the cause of the ripple— two puffins had surfaced from beneath the water and were now happily paddling away. She smiled at the carefree, comical birds. How she wished to be like them.

She rolled her shoulders back in an effort to alleviate her strained neck muscles and watched the two puffins disappear into the harbor where a group of foreign ships still ghosted after all these months. Leering sinisterly in the distance, their dark forms seemed to mock her and she turned her gaze away in exhaustion. The ships belonged to the group of dignitaries that had insisted on prolonging their stay in court, for different reasons, well after her coronation had passed.

Her coronation had been three months ago.

By her estimations they were roughly two months and twenty some odd days worn past their welcome, and she was ready for them to leave. She pursed her lips and with one last deep breath and a slight shake of her head, turned to go back inside.

The fire in her fireplace was out so she made her way over and placed two birch logs in the embers, along with a small bit of kindling and some pinecones for scent. There was no point to wake someone to do something as simple as place logs in embers, especially on this cold night— plus, she oddly enjoyed it. She liked doing things for herself, and hearing the wood crackle, fussing with the logs until they caught fire and feeling the warmth on her face when they did was satisfying. At this late hour, she kept the fire lit for Anna who periodically showed up in her room at odd hours— despite her own outspoken reservations that she couldn't control her powers when she slept. She would still sometimes wake with her sister sleeping in bed next to her and for that she needed the fire kept lit. It was early November and Anna would freeze if she came in and there wasn't a source of warmth. She herself didn't need the warmth, but she decided she could use the light. She wasn't ready to subject herself to absolute darkness just yet— or sleep. Taking up the poker, she fidgeted with the logs until they caught, then, satisfied they would burn for at least an hour, padded over to her desk where a mess of papers awaited her.

It was well after midnight, she hadn't been asleep for that long, but the last meeting she'd had just before bed still burned in her mind. She'd been booked with a near constant flow of meetings for the past three months and only in the past week had they finally started to wane, a little. This most recent one, a troubling recount of an under shipment of lutefisk had her reeling for solutions.

The Earl had presented the case plainly enough and she'd all but dismissed the deficit as a simple miscommunication until she detected an accusatory tone as he reiterated the recent financial anxieties of—

Wessex?

Yes it was Wessex.

She jotted that down in her notebook along with ' _lutefisk under shipment_.' She'd had to start keeping a concise to do list each day after the meetings to stay on top of everything. There were simply too many nuances to keep only a mental list of tasks anymore.

Apparently, fish weren't the only import Wessex had been under shipped on. They had been shorted on other goods, from several different kingdoms that the Earl had recounted in dogmatic fashion, explaining each deficit Wessex had discovered in chronological order. She didn't understand the critical tone he had laced under his sermon— there were a plethora of benign reasons she could think of to account for these deficits that didn't warrant his unpleasant attitude. She also didn't understand why he was even delving into the details of these other problems when lutefisk was the only one that had to do with Arendelle— although the sheer number of deficits he listed did seem a bit odd. It was most likely the lutefisk deficit was due to a human error by one of her merchants; she'd seen that happen occasionally, but never intentionally.

Despite the atmosphere of dignitaries who subtly hinted at her inexperience, she actually had been paying attention and learning about the state of affairs for years prior to her coronation. She'd seen an occasion here or there where the merchants had miscounted something accidentally, but rarely if ever had she found them to have miscalculated on purpose for personal gain— at least not in Arendelle. They were not a large kingdom, and the people were all close knit, honest and fair— albeit steadfast in their traditionalism. There was an admirable, unspoken moral code amongst them and swindling was just not their way. She was convinced that if Wessex was having false transactions with other provinces as well, then it was most likely that _Wessex_ was the common denominator and should look into it themselves. She was close to ending his tirade with just that when he hit her with the crop failures. She'd stared blankly at him for a beat trying in her haze of tiredness to understand the man's thought progression. He then slowly repeated ' _the crop failures_ ' while looking at her with a raised eyebrow and her confusion immediately evaporated into shock. Her mind reeled trying to make sense, piecing it all together— the shortages and under shipments… Her powers… How far across Europe had they reached? She hadn't even thought about it, assuming it had been contained to the area surrounding Arendelle. Summer crops were not meant to withstand winter weather— winter weather she had inflicted upon them all in the middle of July— crop-growing season. Of course people were panicking because of the shortage of crops, and were under-shipping because they had no other choice, and or were compensating by skimming off of other merchandise to conserve for the coming 'real' winter. Two cases of flour here a crate of fish there… eventually it would add up and people would start to question the missing contraband as the Earl had. They were scared and stockpiling food. People do desperate things when they're afraid, she couldn't even blame them. How had she not known of this sooner…? _How far had it spread…?_ What else was she not aware of that she had been at fault for…? Had— had she inadvertently killed anyone…?

After a long glance at her Kai interjected and reassured the Earl that they would look into it, and that Wessex would get a shipment and a half to compensate for their losses.

Kai. Lutefisk. She should have thanked him but her mind was still paralyzed by the realization that she'd frozen half the world. She cringed at the childish impression her silent stupor must have left on the Earl— confirming his suspicions about her ineptitude. Perhaps he'd paid more attention to Kai's deflection.

Hopefully.

Kai had been her father's closest advisor and was now hers, though he had always been more like an uncle to her and Anna. She trusted him. He had always protected them as he had just done, and never failed to ease tension and find a graceful solution that somehow always pleased everyone.

Only he wasn't going to be able to protect her this time. She'd made a mess and she now had to find a way to fix it, starting with getting everyone through the rapidly approaching and very real winter.

With that determination rekindled anew, she continued sifting through the stack of papers and logbooks searching for the lutefisk ledgers. She was going to find the logs, find the merchant himself if need be and present this to the Earl anyway. He could have his extra shipment of free fish but she was going to prove to him at the very least, that Arendelle did not cheat its trade partners. It was a delicate balance she'd discovered, apologizing and reassuring people, while also making it clear Arendelle was not becoming a free-for-all to be constantly taken advantage of.

She was so very drained and tired of reassuring every last Earl, Duke and Viceroy of the same things over and over again, _'relations will stay the same and be strengthened, you have nothing to fear for your kingdom nor from me'_ or _'you can trust in me as you trusted in my father, recent events have not changed that.'_

She let out a long sigh.

Damage control.

That's what it was, and she deserved to bear the exhausting burden of repairing relations she had almost extinguished in a single day, even if that meant listening to inane lutefisk qualms after midnight and finding a way to help the nations that were struggling because of her. It was her job. She was the queen.

As repetitive and tiresome as most of her meetings were, and as much as she wanted the dignitaries to leave, on some level she was grateful that anyone had stayed at all after her coronation, that they didn't get in the first available boat and sail away, never to return, as she supposed they should have done. Granted, many ships were ruined, regrettably, during the coronation and most people were forced to remain, but even the ones who could have left right away didn't.

It had taken her a minute to work that one out— but only a minute.

Hans was the answer— or part of it.

Hans, the scheming prince from the Southern Isles who tried to marry Anna and usurp the crown in her absence after the coronation. He was crafty, but not original in his designs for power, and it was entirely possible that that was why others had remained as well; to see if Arendelle really was on the rumored brink of collapse and to be first in line to claim it if it did. She had to at least keep that on the backburner of possibilities.

She was _not_ going to let that happen again.

It was only a suspect reason though, for their extended stay. Oddly, most of them, once the dust had settled, brushed off the events of the coronation as a minor inconvenience and proceeded as if nothing had happened. Whether they really felt that way or were being polite out of fear she would never really know. However, to their credit, while they waited for their ships to be repaired, they had jumped right into the thick of politics— bombarding her with questions, negotiations, documents, treaties, assurances and the like which, surprisingly, was a welcome distraction after the coronation disaster, albeit an extensive one. Those things she knew about; had spent her life absorbing, studying, breathing— so much so that she found she enjoyed being productive, motivated even, to finally be accomplishing something useful— even if it was partly cleaning up her own mess. At least when she was busy and distracted, she felt more normal.

Of course the more mundane topics of lutefisk quandaries and fishing zones were not as stimulating as some of the other issues that had been brought up such as slavery, more specifically the abolition of— and also modernizing inheritance and property rights for women, such that they could own, buy, sell and inherit property in their own name and not solely in the name of their husband. She could get so caught up in those things that on more than one occasion she had worked through the night without realizing the sun had come up. It was a distraction that held her interest to be sure, that's what had always gotten her through, but it also somewhat alleviated her guilt and in that way it had become seductive to work long hours.

Something she had not foreseen, but supposed she should have in retrospect, was that in fact many had extended their stay in Arendelle to secure good relations with _her_. They saw what she could do, the destruction she so swiftly and effortlessly caused, and though she labored to convince them that she was not a threat, they seemed equally bent on convincing her they were not to be seen as a threat either. They wanted to secure their kingdoms protection from her.

That made sense.

But what also became increasingly apparent as the continued meetings unfolded was that most of them _needed_ her to be on their side for economic reasons even before anyone knew of the crop failures. Or rather they needed to confirm that they were still in favorable relations with Arendelle now that there was a new sovereign— a new sovereign _like her_.

Arendelle was very rich and diverse in its resources, much richer then most of the nations they had dealings with; they were getting along fine even with the local crop shortages. They had abundant metals such as iron, lead and copper, with iron being one of their main exports. It was used for a great many necessities from weaponry to pots and pans. Her father even suspected ships would one day be built out of the stuff, though she had no idea how metal so heavy would ever stay afloat.

Arendelle was also a sea kingdom, and thus ran very profitable whaling, fishing and seafood enterprises. There were also countless freshwater lakes up in the mountains, all of which were teeming with just about every type of northern fish one could want. The abundant forests provided a great supply of timber and game, with lumber, deerskins and meat being the other primary exports— though she was interested in setting up some regulations, especially the amount of trees that were being cut every year. Even most of the fertile lowlands at the base of the fjord were converted to dairy farms in the summer months, producing milk, goat cheese, sheep wool, root vegetables, barley, and select fruits, nuts and berries. Years of studying economics had taught her this much: Arendelle was almost always in a trade surplus. There was very little aside from grain that they actually needed to import that couldn't be classified as luxury: sugar, spices, silk, coffee, corn, wine and fruits and vegetables only warmer climates could sustain.

Because of this— because of her parents, Arendelle was extremely financially independent and if they were careful, she was confident her kingdom could still function and sustain itself on its own even if trade stopped altogether. She was also fairly certain these other diplomats knew this as well. In the larger configuration of nations Arendelle held quite a bit of power and leverage, economically speaking at least, which reassured and troubled her all at once— she would have to tread carefully. She also hoped that because of this they could afford to compensate the nations that were struggling because of crop failures.

Either she'd missed the log or it wasn't in this logbook. Frustrated, she leaned back in her chair, let out a long breath and squeezed the back of her neck. Hard.

Trade relations, alliances, subterfuge… lutefisk.

She could deal with all of that. Eventually the meetings would subside and the dignitaries would leave… hopefully. Unfortunately, those issues were only part of a larger reason most of them had stayed. The main reason, why foreign ships still clogged her harbor three months past her coronation, was because of her sister.

The throbbing pain snaked up from her neck and landed, somehow, just over her eyes. She propped her elbows on the desk, closed her eyes and pressed her thumbs up into the top of her eye sockets.

Anna.

A quiet grunt escaped as the pressure intensified just behind her eyes.

 _Marriage._

By law, she as the sovereign, had to sit through and either approve or disprove every single suitor attached to marriage propaganda that was vying for her sister's hand— which unfortunately, had grown exponentially since the gates of the castle had opened permanently three months prior.

Her sister was talkative, witty, funny, smart, interesting, pretty and extremely oblivious of the effect she had on men— which was unfortunate, for her more so than Anna, as she was the one forced to sit through the unbelievably absurd marriage proposals.

Anna had also saved her life, an effort the entire kingdom and all those present for the coronation had witnessed— and now, every man of marriageable age wanted to be betrothed to this beautiful, courageous young girl…

Young woman.

Anna was a young woman of marriageable age now.

Elsa's breath caught for a second as that fact hit her. She had already known this, Anna had been eighteen for months now with men chasing her for the past three, but laying it out like that sent a painful ache into her heart. She had missed so much of her sister's life, they had only just come into each other's lives again and she, selfishly, didn't want anyone to take her away again. In her heart she knew Anna and knew that was something she shouldn't worry about, but the thought of her sister married off still made her throat close up and her eyes sting.

Well she wasn't engaged yet at least, there was still that.

In fact, when the suitors first started buzzing around, Anna had actually laughed when told that they were there for her and had insisted, through fits of laughter, that Elsa was insane and that they were obviously interested in her. This had privately amused her as men usually (thankfully) kept their distance from her.

Anna became so insistent about it however, that it grew a bit ridiculous. She began coming up with all kinds of elaborate scenarios for how Elsa should meet her tall dark suitor, how Anna should covertly orchestrate the whole thing because Elsa was incredibly dense when it came to men, (that part was not voiced in so many words but had been implied) followed by extravagant plans for Elsa's wedding and names for the niece she was absolutely certain she'd have one day. Anna's invented scenarios were unsurprisingly sappy and cliché, and she'd just smiled and shook her head. Though she had to give Anna credit, some of them were actually very exciting, creative and beautifully romantic and she found herself secretly enjoying pretending she was normal, discussing suitors and romantic adventures with her sister and letting herself for a moment believe she would get to experience all the things on Anna's detailed list. She didn't have the heart to tell her sister that she was probably never going to become an aunt.

So in order to finally convince her of the suitor's intentions, she took Anna up to the balcony that overlooked the slew of men gaggled in the courtyard and told her to wait before coming out. Elsa stepped out first, nodded her head, and all the men who noticed her bowed respectfully then began excitedly chattering amongst themselves and straining to see beyond Elsa. Elsa closed her eyes to keep from rolling them, and motioned to Anna who stepped out moments later. As she predicted, their etiquette and strained neck muscles instantly transformed into outright hoots, hollers and cheering combined with excessive bowing. Some even dropped to one knee as if to propose right then and there. Unable to contain it this time, Elsa let her eyes roll then crossed her arms and turned to Anna, raising an eyebrow that said _I told you so_.

The mortified look on Anna's face had been priceless and worth the whole demonstration. Her sister had gone beet red and her face looked like it did when she'd get into trouble: something between embarrassed and frightened. Anna then sheepishly waved at the men while slipping silently back inside, nearly knocking over a flowerpot as she backed away. She also became increasingly awkward and avoidant of the men after that, which meant it was up to Elsa to deal with them.

 _Marriage._

Her sister was not ready for breakfast half the time, let alone _marriage._ Kristoff, an ice harvester, was the first man Anna had ever seriously been with, and while she suspected they were in love, they had only been together since her coronation.

From what Anna had recounted, Kristoff had saved her life on more than one occasion when Anna had gone looking for her last summer, and he had expected nothing in return for his help— something she had repeatedly asked Anna if she was sure about. Anna insisted that she was the one who approached him, and that he was even somewhat reluctant to help her at first, but did so anyway in a very gentlemanly-way as Anna phrased it. The more she listened the more she unfortunately realized just how much she owed the man— without his help, Anna might be dead.

A bit of ice crept up inside her chest at the thought.

She too would be dead.

Though she vowed never to speak, dwell or think of it again, she still couldn't escape from the dark thoughts that swirled within her the day she thought she had killed Anna. She'd been on the edge of a dangerous precipice for some time prior to that incident, and that day, she'd nearly dragged herself off the edge of it.

Elsa rubbed her hands over her face and noticed that they were coated with a thin layer of ice. She opened and closed her fists several times, watching the ice glisten, crack, crumble and fall to the floor.

Anna had not died— Anna had saved her life that day. She not only physically saved her, but Anna had saved her spirit, saved her from herself really, simply by entering into her life again— and she was never going to let anything or _anyone_ jeopardize that ever again.

Including Kristoff.

Yes, she'd believed Anna's story about him, and there was no question that she was indebted to him for saving Anna, but the one thing she had questioned was Anna's coloration of the story. Her sister simply saw the best in people, and she loved her for that, but was also not about to allow her to be deceived or hurt because of it— she knew better. She understood the lengths people would go to in order to deceive— the different facades used to cover up dark secrets and hidden motives… She after all, had mastered all of them.

Initially her gut reaction had been to ask Anna if she was insane to get involved with or even trust another man so soon after the Hans debacle, but had ultimately decided to hold her tongue. The last time she verbalized her distaste of a man Anna brought to her had been at her coronation— which sparked the events that led to Anna bodily shielding her from Hans' swinging sword and nearly losing her life.

No, fighting with Anna was something she never wished to experience again. Ever.

She also didn't want Anna to think she couldn't come to her about such things, good or bad, whatever the topic, she wanted Anna to be able to talk to her openly about any and everything.

She owed her that at the very least.

It also wasn't as if she disliked Kristoff, he had actually seemed very genuine the first brief time she'd met him, she just didn't know him very well.

So her first move had been to get records of all the transactions she could find involving Kristoff and his ice business, which she innocently left out of conversations between her and Anna. She went through receipts, pay notes, delivery logs, equipment contracts, lease papers and even found official papers on his reindeer Sven. Everything she found seemed honest and legitimate; deliveries always on time and complete, humane treatment of Sven, bills and loans paid on time or in full. It appeared he was not well off by any means, but financially stable just the same. She had also jotted down a list of names that cropped up more than once of customers and merchants who Kristoff had repeat dealings with. She wanted to see if paper trail Kristoff lined up with the real Kristoff, and so decided to visit several people off the list. Having unrestricted access to all legal documents was definitely a more useful aspect of her position.

To her surprise, every last person she visited gave only glowing reviews of Kristoff's excellent service and moral character. Byron, the merchant who sold Kristoff his sleigh, thought very highly of him and explained enthusiastically how Kristoff had purchased one of his more expensive sleigh models that he'd been working to pay off for a long time, and how very recently he'd made the final payment on it.

She'd cringed inwardly at that, as Anna had explained to her how Kristoff's sleigh had run off over a cliff and been ruined during their journey. She thanked Byron and requested that he bring his nicest, most practical sleigh to the palace courtyard, and she would pay him in full for it, along with any delivery charges. She didn't know the details of what Kristoff's job entailed, but she asked Byron to ensure that the sleigh had all the same functions as Kristoff's old sled. She didn't want him to receive an extravagant sleigh that he couldn't use for his job. Byron listened carefully to her request, offered explanations about things she had little knowledge of, then assured her he had the perfect sleigh that he was certain Kristoff would love. She liked Byron. He was a kind and wise elderly gentleman and she found she trusted his opinion of Kristoff. She thanked him again and added that her sister would come by to confirm the transaction and select added equipment for Kristoff's sleigh and to please deliver those goods along with the sleigh itself. He assured her that he would see it done and she left, feeling more confident about the Kristoff situation.

It turned out her initial reaction about Kristoff and that of the others who knew him well had been spot on. He was indeed humble, genuine and very gentle for someone as tall and broad as he was. Something she had not expected however, was how much she too had come to enjoy his company over the past few months. He was very intelligent, in a stoic way, something his rugged physical appearance had belied and she found his well-timed, occasionally cynical, sarcastic bits of humor to be very endearing. He was also very passionate about ice sculptures— which was a welcome surprise.

What fascinated her most though, was how his mind seemed to operate on the same frequency as Anna's. He was openly, sometimes inappropriately honest about his opinions (most of which she found she agreed with) which unfortunately made stifling her chuckles at his sarcastic remarks all the more difficult. He legitimately understood and found almost all of Anna's jokes funny where most people were lost, (including she herself half the time) and he would even add to them occasionally, usually causing Anna to break down into a fit of laughter. He also willingly participated in all of her sister's ill-conceived ideas. However, he seemed to be part accomplice, part supervisor, making sure Anna didn't get herself into trouble, and she said a silent thank you for that. It felt so different and yet somehow normalizing to have someone around that was simply a friend, someone who wanted nothing from them but to enjoy their company, and she was quietly grateful for it.

Word of Anna's relationship with Kristoff however, never seemed to spread amongst the ever-growing hoard of predominantly arrogant suitors— or more likely it did, and they either found stimulation in the challenge or simply didn't care, viewing Anna as the queen to be captured in their twisted version of political chess.

She finally had to recruit Kai to help her dismiss the men, but they almost never went away unless she directly, _forcefully_ told them no. They would congregate around the castle at all hours until she finally saw them, or the guards threw them out of the courtyard for the night. She even had to employ more guards to keep them from coming back at ungodly hours. Kristoff had been particularly useful and very efficient at orchestrating that task, but they just kept coming back and back again until she would see them directly.

The antiquated Royal Marriages Act which stated that the suitors needed the reigning monarchs consent before courting a royal in fact, turned out to be somewhat useful, in that if they didn't have to go through her first, Anna would have been mobbed like a lamb to the slaughter. As it stood Anna could barely leave the castle without being swarmed, which she knew drove Anna insane. So she resigned to seeing and rejecting each one of them one by one— if for nothing else then getting them all away from the castle. They had taken up a near permanent residence out there, encouraged and supplied with food and drink innocently by the townspeople, who all wanted to see their princess happily married off. It was a near constant festival outside and she needed it to stop— it was too much with everything else that was going on. Although, she really couldn't even bring herself to be mad at the people; however misplaced their hospitality was, their loyalty and care was touching.

So became her daily ritual: in between meetings, she'd spend her time in court sitting on the uncomfortable throne listening to the suitors endless supply of undying promises and devotions of love to her sister. It was marvelous how mind numbingly similar and unoriginal they all were. She was certain they all must rehearse and trade notes on these pretentious tirades, which were always different versions of the same thing.

They would start with animated professions of love for Anna that came across as blatantly insincere and— at first— mildly amusing. At one point she was sure they had stolen lines from books she had read. _They fell in love the moment they laid eyes on her… the gates opening was a sign from above… they couldn't sleep after she spoke just one syllable to them_ … and her personal favorite _, the events last July opened their eyes to the fragile nature of life and love._

If only they had any real idea about that one.

Then came the incredibly inaccurate and unsuccessful attempts at trying to sound like they knew something about Anna.

 _'Majesty, if I may be so bold as to point out that Princess Anna and I share a deep connection through our love of the arts and I would be honored to help expand her artistic horizons.'_

What would _expand Anna's horizons_ would be if they would get away from the castle and leave her alone. The only _deep connection_ they had to her was from the information they ferreted out by practically stalking her or heard from the local gossip train.

Though she applauded the few who at least did basic research and their vague approximations of her sister's interests. Others hadn't even had the sense to ask around and she found that she took particular pleasure in asking them what they knew about Anna, just so she could watch the look of sheer stupor spread across their faces when their minds couldn't arrange a proper story quickly enough. That brand of amusement only became enjoyable when the haze of exhaustion really started to affect her judgment.

Regardless, when those tactics failed, they would segue into their favorite talking points: the conglomerate of wealth and land they possessed, were set to inherit or their rank. She tried to restrain herself on that one, but largely failed. When she was paying attention she would succinctly point out that she was in the process of equalizing property and inheritance rights for women, so Anna would get to keep control over her royal dowry upon marriage and therefore had no immediate need for property or wealth as provided by a potential husband. It also gave her an opening to subtly point out that while Arendelle most definitely desired to keep profitable and amicable relations with other nations, they did not _need_ to do so especially through any marriage of Anna's or her own. She also hoped this might check any future suitors who might aim her way. It may not have necessarily been true, she was fighting a downhill battle with the nobles on the Privy Council who were staunch in their religious beliefs that she and Anna needed to marry, and marry a nation not a lover while they were at it. Regardless, this information usually caused the suitors to falter, bow and finish with some obsequious drabble aimed at adulating her on her excellent accomplishments as queen, (all three months worth of accomplishments) and their profuse, syrupy devotion to the crown.

Mentally tracing the designs on the floor tiles had become more engaging then listening to their drivel. Half the time she would zone out, her mind arranging hypothetical arguments with the Privy Council about arranged marriages, inattentively nodding at the suitors until silence caused by the absence of their din-babble would snap her back to reality. At first she tried to give each one a small speech explaining why they were unfit for her sister, letting them down gently… especially the suitors representative of other nations.

However, she lost the energy for that rapidly— though she did manage to retain patience for the decent few that came through.

The majority though, were the grossly overconfident, argumentative types, who didn't understand the word _no_ when it was dropped on their large heads. Only so many times, could she give the same repetitive diatribe of rejection without wishing to pull her hair out, single strand by single strand.

Kai once again, was her salvation through all of this, as he had quickly picked up on her subvert, irritated eye signals. The two of them worked out a code-system of subtle gestures and eye maneuvers that indicated when to start removing the undesirables without her even saying a word. All she had to do was glance at Kai when their incessant rambling shifted from redundant to desperate and he would smoothly interject and start escorting them to the door where Kristoff or the guards would step in and drag them the rest of the way out.

Bless those men.

Then the _older_ Lords would come in. That always riled her up. Men twice her _own_ age pompously trotting in under the delusion that their lucrative finances and status still endowed them the right to court someone who could've been their daughter. She quickly disillusioned them of that notion, having to fight the ice from forming every step of the way. Even the way they would leer at her was lewd and it disturbed her. Still, she was careful to be as polite and regal as possible with these ones. They were shrewd and by their age knew how to play the political game. She didn't trust them. Kai knew it too and she knew these ones would be watched extra carefully.

She however was lucky— or unlucky perhaps depending on how one chose to look at it— that men were not courting her— at least not directly. She literally didn't have the time for it. Few men rarely even made direct eye contact with her for more than a few seconds anyway. She told herself that it was for the best, and it was, even if somewhere deep down it stung a bit. She was bound by her powers and married to her kingdom and she knew there would be no room for a romantic relationship… She'd given up that hope long ago. The only thing that really represented a problem would be her inability to produce an heir, though Anna was capable at least, if she desired to. Even if somehow she was able to be with someone someday, she had no real idea how a passionate moment might begin to work with her powers such as they were— or if she would be willing to test that should she ever come to care about someone in that way. Or if she could ever trust someone enough to consider that… It was better things were left as they were. She didn't need any more complications. It was safer this way.

She took in another deep breath and looked up; the fire had already fizzled out, leaving burning coals in the fireplace once again.

She had Anna. That was all the love she needed, she could do without romantic love as long as she had that. She closed the large logbook and the papers on her desk flew off and scattered around her chair.

She slumped forward, resting her forehead in her hands and tried to block out the heaviness in her chest. Was it even possible that any other human besides Anna could come to feel that way about her? To love her just as she is, powers and all? She closed her eyes, already aware of the answer. Watching Anna's children grow up would have to be good enough.


	2. Chapter 2: Anna

She sighed and rolled onto her stomach, flipping her braids out from under her head as she landed on the pillow, annoyed.

A deep breath, then another… two more.

Dull green aurora light seeped into her eyelids and flickered there like candlelight— _flick…_ _flick…. flick…_

She squeezed her eyes shut harder and flung an arm over her face.

Better.

 _Flick…_ The light still pulled at her eyeballs.

 _'Ugh…'_ She snatched the corner of her comforter and flung it over her head.

 _'Why are you always awake, sky?'_ She hissed from under the blanket.

She took a deep breath. The blanket was stifling.

A grunt, and she half kicked the heavy thick comforter off her lower body. Not enough. She gave another flail with her free leg to get out from under the sweltering thing, but it was futile.

 _'Good enough…'_ She settled.

Arm overhead, one leg free— the other partway off the bed, comforter askew and she was comfortable at last. ' _Take that, comforter.'_ She snickered and took a deep satisfied breath. With her exhale, down slinked the corner of the comforter, leaving one eye exposed.

 _Flicker._

 _'Ugh!'_ Her eyes shot open and she unceremoniously flung herself onto her back— too forcefully— and her head smacked directly onto the headboard. _Crack!_

 _'Ahhhhhffffffddghh!'_

The worst kind of nauseating pain enveloped her and she rolled over, face into the pillow, stifling inaudible profanities while the demonic comforter entangled her further.

 _'Stutid blnkt!'_ She mumbled into the pillow, still facedown and clutching the lump forming atop her head. A few heavy breaths later and she then savagely began to extract herself from the tangled mess of bedding. _'Ughaah!'_ She kicked and yanked at the sheets becoming more and more entangled until—

 _'No… no… nonono!'_ Off the side of the bed she careened in a magnificent explosion of bedding.

 _Thud._

She lay on the floor panting, trapped in a cocoon of sheets and blanket.

 _'Really?_ '

The northern lights winked at her.

 _'Auaghhh! Don't twinkle at me, sky!'_ She rolled, irritated, out of her blanket cocoon prison and stood up exasperated, but not remotely tired. _'You may have won the battle, but the war is not over.'_ She hissed, pointing two fingers from her eyes to the messed up comforter on the floor.

 _'This isn't over.'_ She breathed over her shoulder as she stalked away from the offender, rubbing her sore bum out into the dark hallway.

The short walk to Elsa's room had seemed like an eternity when she was a little girl, scared and skittish in the middle of the night. The wood floor was always so cold on her bare feet, and she would sprint to the safety of her sister's room, before anything scary in the night could get her. She shivered and quickened her pace. She always slept better when she was with Elsa. Everything was always better with with Elsa.

The door that had been locked to her for so many years, now freely cracked open as she turned the knob— and she poked her head in as she had done on so many recent nights. The room was freezing as always, and dark on this side of the castle— the wall of mountains blocking out most of the light from the auroras.

Shutting the door softly behind her, she tiptoed over to the bed, but could see when she got near that Elsa was not in it. She turned and saw her sister where she didn't want to find her— slumped at her desk, mouth slightly agape, head resting in the crook of one arm sleeping deeply in a mess of papers.

'Oh Elsa…' The whole sight depressed her. There was a light snow coming down over her, and papers and books spilling off her desk had amassed on the floor around her. The balcony doors swung open slightly in the night breeze creaking eerily. Anna shivered. Elsa looked thin, thinner than she normally did. Had she even been eating? She had to convince her to take a break from this madness.

Anna gently moved the braid back off her sister's face where it had fallen, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

'Elsa?' She whispered so as not to startle her. Nothing. She shook her gently. 'Elsa, c'mon you've got to get in bed.' Her sister's eyes fluttered.

'Anna? You ok?' Elsa slurred as she sat groggily upright.

'I'm fine, I'm fine. You fell asleep at your desk again. Let's get you to bed.' Elsa nodded as Anna grabbed her under the arm to stand her up. As soon as she was up Elsa swayed with a faraway look in her eyes.

'Elsa..?' Anna's eyes grew wide as Elsa caught herself on the desk and sank back down into the chair, Anna still gripping her arm. Anna knelt down in front of the chair and gripped Elsa's shoulders. 'Elsa, Elsa are you ok?' She asked nervously looking into her sister's glassy eyes. 'Elsa you're scaring me.' After a long moment Elsa's eyes blinked and came back to focus on Anna.

'I'm sorry Anna, it was just a bad head rush spell, I get those sometimes.'

'I've never seen you have one that bad, I thought you were gonna pass out.'

'I just stood up too quickly, I'm fine.'

'You're not fine you just— You know what, never mind. You just need to get in bed. Stand up slowly this time?' As they stood, Anna swung Elsa's arm over her shoulder to support her.

'Anna, this is unnecessary.'

'Just humor me— and it's the one time I'll admit that it's convenient being shorter than you so, enjoy it.' Elsa chuckled.

Once Elsa was in bed Anna moved to secure the balcony doors.

'So, when was the last time you ate today?' She asked casually as the locks clicked shut.

'What?' Came Elsa's faint groggy voice. Anna moved to light a fire.

'You know, food. When was the last time you ate it?'

'Oh, um before one of the meetings I think.' She yawned. 'At lunch I had soup, I don't know Anna.' Her eyes were closed and voice trailed off.

 _Soup._

 _'The fact that you can't remember when you last ate is a problem Elsa.'_ Anna said under her breath as she lit the kindling.

'Hmmm?'

'Nothing.'

Anna finished with the fire and climbed into bed with Elsa. She scooted closer to her sister, fluffed the pillows and dropped into them.

'Oof…' A quiet grunt slipped out before she could stop it and she winced, grabbing the lump on her head.

Elsa's eyes shot open.

'What was that?'

Anna whisked her hand away from the lump on her head. It wasn't quickly enough.

'Why were you holding your head?' Elsa's brow furrowed as she scooted up on the pillows to get a better look. 'Anna, what happened to your head?' Elsa's wide eyes meant the lump was visible.

Of course it was.

'The bed attacked me.' She said matter of factly hoping to elicit a chuckle out of Elsa. No such luck. She was met with a raised eyebrow and look of concerned confusion. Elsa shook her head and leaned to move Anna's hair away to get a better look.

'I don't know how you did this Anna, but I want you to get it looked at in the morning.'

Anna felt immediate relief as a gentle coolness spread down from the top of her head causing her to shiver.

'Sorry was that too much?' The cool receded.

'No, no it felt wonderful, and I will go get it checked out tomorrow. But Elsa look,' She sat upright moving Elsa's hand from atop her head into her lap. 'I think you should take a day off from working tomorrow.'

Elsa inhaled and clasped both of her hands in her lap. A beat went by, Elsa's brow furrowed. She could hear her silently considering it. There was possibly hop—

'I really can't do that right now Anna.'

Hope. Dashed.

'Yes you can, just tell them you're ill or something. That wouldn't be far off from the truth, Elsa no offense but you look terrible. You almost fainted just now, your eyelids have been doing that dark, droopy thing and you can't even remember when you last ate. You need to take a break. Your work isn't going anywhere— _unfortunately.'_

'No, I really mean I just can't.' Her eyes shifted to the window away from Anna.

Something was going on. This was more than just her usual workaholic compulsion.

'Why?'

Elsa turned to face her once again.

'I had a meeting right before bed, with the Earl of Wessex,' She paused gesturing over her head, 'You know the one—'

Anna let out a giggle. 'Yes! The one with the toupee that looks like—'

'Yes, that one.'

She knew exactly which Earl her sister meant, his toupee didn't match his original hair color and the way he had it styled looked almost exactly like a swirly ice cream cone. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

'Well he was going on and on about all these trade shortages Wessex has been dealing with, and I was tired so I was only half listening, but then he said it was all due to crop failures and gave me this look.'

'A look? What kind of look?'

'Well, I'm… I can't really do it. Kind of like—' Elsa pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow.

'He _smoldered_ at you? Haha gross! How old was he, was he hitting on you?!'

'What? No, Anna. Look I can't really do the look— wait, what is a smolder? Never mind, the point is, it was an accusatory look that's all. Like it was my fault, the crop failures. And I think he's right.'

Anna paused.

'Ok, that's definitely not what I thought you were going to say.'

Elsa sighed.

'I was so busy with everything that I hadn't stopped to consider that my powers had reached beyond Arendelle.' Her eyes dropped and went somewhere faraway. Anna had an immediate urge to punch this Earl for planting this seed in Elsa's head.

'Wait, wait—' Anna shook her head while waving her hands. 'He's saying your powers reached _all the way_ to other countries and destroyed their crops?' She raised an eyebrow. 'I don't know Elsa, I'm not buying it. He could be making that up for all you know as some type of angle to get something from you. Need I remind you of Hans? I don't like it. Did he have any proof?'

'Well, no, nothing concrete aside from his word.'

'Well then I wouldn't worry about it for the moment.' She waved her hand dismissively. 'But look, I do think you need some kind of help. You're overwhelmed between these kind of absurd accusations and rumors, the incessant meetings,' She rolled her eyes. 'The time you spend in court alone dismissing those idiots… I don't know why you don't just let me make some public announcement about that… But the point is, you don't have to do it all alone, let me help you, _please_. We can do it together. You can teach me.'

Elsa bit her lip as her eyes drifted down.

'I mean, I could use help with some of the paperwork—' She stopped herself. 'But Anna really, I don't want this for you. I know you hate this kind of thing and it isn't your burden. I want you to go have fun, live your life and be free— do all the things you've been dreaming of doing.' Her eyes were painfully sincere, but she just did not understand.

'Elsa, what I want is for my sister to be ok. And right now, you are not ok. Doing everything I ever dreamed of doing would mean nothing if I knew you weren't alright.'

She knew she had won this one.

Elsa took a breath and smiled her half smile, her eyes drifted back to Anna.

'What would I do without you?'

Anna smiled back and shrugged,

'You'll always have me.' At that a long cold arm reached out and pulled her in to a hug.

'I love you.'

Anna smiled into Elsa's shoulder.

'I love you more.' She paused, 'Just one day of hooky?'

Elsa chuckled into Anna's hair and broke the hug.

'Maybe, we'll see.'

Elsa scooched down under the blanket. Anna followed and snuggled up next to her. She took a deep breath and smiled— no longer hot, no longer blinded by the sky.

Sleep came quickly and easily.


	3. Chapter 3: Lunch

A light rapping at the door which might have been the echo of a dream.

'Hnnnn, just one more sanwichhh…' Anna's eyes flittered, it was still dark out. Too early. She shivered, wrapped the blanket closer and closed her eyes.

'Your majesty, time to wake.' A soft voice came from the other side of the door.

She was in Elsa's room. Her eyes popped open and found Elsa who was still curled up on her side breathing deeply. _'Don't knock again…'_ She pleaded silently while scooting as fast as she dared toward the edge of the bed — careful not to have another ungainly incident — very careful not to disturb the covers. Success. Clearly it was only her own bed that was out to strangle her.

She tip toe ran to the door and opened it quietly, just a crack.

It was Gerda. Anna slipped out into the dimly lit hallway, closing the door softly behind her.

'Oh, Princess Anna.' Momentary surprise flickered on Gerda's face but evaporated instantaneously. It was not unusual for Gerda to wake her from Elsa's bed— though it was always much _much_ later in the morning (or afternoon). Of course this must be odd.

'Morning Gerda.' Anna's tired eyes smiled and she rubbed her suddenly cold arms.

'Here, put this on my dear.' She draped Elsa's purple robe around Anna's shoulders. It was silky and warm and faintly smelled like Elsa— and soap. 'I don't quite ever see you up this early. Is everything alright?'

Gerda never missed a thing. She'd known them since they were babies and Anna had long since given up trying to get anything past her. She had been probably no more than four when she broke the heirloom vase that had been on display in the hallway. It was high up, in a pretty glass case — ironically — to keep it safe. But it had had a perfectly Anna sized cabinet beneath it that was ideal for hiding from Elsa when they played hide and seek. She had wriggled herself in and closed the door, only to realize what a twistedly uncomfortable position she had wormed her way into. It was very tight, she could hardly breathe and she started to panic— kicking hard the walls, the ceiling (she wasn't sure in the dark) trying to right herself, trying to get the door open until— _crack!_ The vase above had tumbled out of its receptacle and crashed right outside her little cupboard prison and it was _loud_. Startled, she cried out, still squirming about frantically in the dark and then: Elsa was there. The door was open and she was being pulled out and into Elsa's arms. _'Shhhh it's ok Anna, I've got you.'_ Her crying subsided while Elsa held her, coming only in short hiccupy breaths— but then started again when she saw the shattered remains of the vase splintered out all around them. Elsa hauled her away from the shards gently shushing her, just as Gerda had come running.

Anna's stomach dropped as Gerda took in the scene with wide eyes and zeroed in on her. She was still sniffling, trying to avoid Gerda's eyes. Gerda had told her numerous times not to hide in that cabinet, but she had not listened and now she was going to get in big trouble. _'I'm sorry Miss Gerda it was an accident, we were playing and I bumped into it. Anna just got scared…'_ It was Elsa who spoke, quietly, softly, eyes never leaving her feet. Anna, for her part, stood there staring up at Elsa mouth agape — Elsa her hero her idol her savior — but had Elsa just _lied?_ Quickly Anna looked down at her toes, just as Elsa had done. They were never supposed to lie, but Elsa had just lied for Anna — to save her — so did that make it ok? She wasn't sure, but it must be, because Elsa never got in trouble.

Gerda eyed them both suspiciously until— _'Oh dear you're bleeding!'_ Anna looked around bewildered, but found that it was Elsa's knee that had a huge gash in it — her stocking ripped, red cascading down her shin — from kneeling on a stray shard of the vase? Anna felt her lower lip quiver at seeing another thing she had broken, at seeing Elsa bleed— but she bit it back. Elsa wasn't even crying and Anna wondered how, with a cut like that Elsa wasn't wailing. She surely would have been if it were her. But if Elsa wasn't crying neither would she.

After Elsa had been bandaged, Gerda took them both aside and questioned them again. Her gaze was not harsh but knowing, very knowing— and Anna almost confessed right there. She would have if Elsa had not grabbed her wrist right then and squeezed— _don't._ So she didn't. They both just stared red-faced and silent at the ground. Elsa nodding or shaking her head guiltily in response to the questioning. Anna made no movements— a silent accomplice. Elsa was not given dessert that night as punishment — chocolate cake — and Anna had finally shattered at that, letting the dam flow right at the dinner table, tears and all, just how much her fault it all really was. Mama and Papa had exchanged a look and quickly covered smiles and Anna couldn't understood then, why this would make them giggle, but it vaguely annoyed her as she theatrically professed her sins. She was the one who deserved no chocolate cake, not Elsa— it was not funny. But then they gave her a talking to and that was it. No punishment. They both got cake. That was the first and last time she ever tried to lie (even by omission) to Gerda or anybody for that matter. She was just no good at keeping secrets and she was sure the stress caused by lying and secrets would result in her early and untimely death.

Anna glanced over her shoulder at the door where Elsa slept and back to Gerda. 'Actually, about that…' She paused, reconsidering. But then there was the image of Elsa slumped at her desk like a lifeless mannequin— and she caved. Let Elsa be mad at her. 'Well, Elsa won't admit it, but she's really run down and I think she needs a day off. I know what she's doing is important but—'

'Oh bless, finally.' Gerda cut Anna off before she could finish, visibly relieved. 'Your sister has been looking unwell for weeks and Kai and myself have been extremely worried. She won't listen to a soul, you've been able to get her to see reason then?' Her tone hopeful, too optimistic unfortunately.

Anna bit her lip and looked upward. 'Well, not exactly, exactly. But she didn't exactly say no.' She shrugged, a little guilty.

'Then shall we assume she meant yes?' Gerda's smirk was all the understanding Anna needed and she lunged to hug her, robe flying from her shoulders.

'Thank you Gerda.' She then pulled back excitedly— 'Oh! And whenever Elsa wakes up, can you have them send up those toasted things she likes to eat? I don't think she's really been eating and— well I'm just worried.'

'I will have it all taken care of sweetheart, don't worry.' She said, waving Anna off— _I'm way ahead of you dear_. Of course she was. 'I will let Kai know as well so he can re-arrange her schedule for today. Now, why don't you get some more rest too dear, your sister is not the only one who has been looking out of sorts as of late.' She raised an eyebrow at Anna that was somehow scolding and kind all at once. She never missed a thing.

Anna couldn't help but smile. 'Yes ma'am.' She said, adding a slight salute for good measure. Orders for her own well-being, when issued by Gerda were somehow comforting in a way that she hadn't often experienced since her mother had passed, and it was nice.

'Sleep well sweetheart.' Gerda smiled, gave a quick squeeze to Anna's non-saluting arm before walking off down the hall.

Anna bent to retrieve the fallen robe and paused, a movement in the dark caught the corner of her eye. Her heart jumped into her ears and her head filled with images of dark shadowy figures who might suddenly jump out of the darkness and grab her. She tensed, but stood up slowly, calmly, so as not to alert the psycho in the shadows that she had noticed. Casually she swung the robe around her shoulders— an excuse to flick her head in the direction of the attacker— but, nothing was there. She exhaled dramatically, _'Pull it together Anna.'_ She rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness. Still, she glanced side to side for good measure before sliding back into Elsa's room and locking the doors. Better safe than sorry.

Elsa was still sleeping in the exact same position thankfully, so she tip toe ran back to the bed and slid in as fast as she could.

Gerda was right, Elsa wasn't the only one who hadn't been sleeping well. Ever since Hans — someone she had both liked and trusted — attempted to kill Elsa and herself, she was more on edge than she had ever been before in her life. And she hated it. She refused to close the curtains at night anymore as she'd become so jumpy in the dark, but then the auroras were too bright.

How poor was her judgment of people really, to allow someone like that to get so close to them so easily and so quickly? Who else lurking in the shadows or perhaps already near to them might have ulterior motives? It was a maddening circle of thinking she couldn't seem to quiet. Elsa did not have this problem. She had always had such a keen sense for people— able to size them up correctly, tactfully, accurately, _immediately._ She could ferret out any hidden motives they possessed as easily as she had initially done with Hans, only Anna had been too stubborn or too oblivious to listen to her at the time. And she had no idea how Elsa did it. She supposed Elsa could not afford even the slightest of miscues in character judgement, lest she plunge the realm into chaos by trusting the wrong person— which surely would have happened already if Anna was queen. But was this how Elsa had lived her entire life to hone such a precise, scathing appraisal of people? Nervous, skittish of shadows, suspicious of everything and everyone including and most severely, her own self? This was no way to live— even if it did result in scarily accurate queenly superpowers.

She scooched her back up close against Elsa's, pulling the covers tightly around both of them— together they would get through all of this. They would. As long as they had each other.

* * *

Everything felt heavy and limp as if she had been hit by a horse, but in a good way. The bed felt particularly comfortable and she felt rested, finally she must have gotten some decent sleep. An epiphany about a new angle she could play to the Privy Council that morning skated through her mind and she stretched, satisfied with the inspiration. Her eyes fluttered and — was it light out?

Elsa shot upright, her eyes darted around dazed. The sun was streaming in the window at an unfamiliar angle— what time was it?

'Anna!' Her sister lay splayed out next to her, arm overhead, mouth entirely agape and the covers twisted around her in an impossible fashion.

'Anna! What time is it, why didn't anyone wake me?!' She shook Anna's arm rather violently before bolting out of bed and running to the vanity, unbraiding her hair as she went.

'Hmmmm…?' Anna mumbled something unintelligible and rolled over, her eyes never opening.

'Anna!' She practically yelled it this time as she reached for a brush and began yanking it through her tangled hair. A startled Anna sprang up from beneath a mass of blankets, her hair wild, eyes wide, looking as though she could not place what year it was if asked. She sat there blinking, slowly, but still no response.

'Anna, did Gerda come to wake me this morning?' Elsa offered through a mouthful of hairpins.

Anna still distinctly looked as if she did not know her own name, but came back with: 'Oh, Um…'

Elsa stopped with her hair and looked at Anna directly in the mirror. 'Anna.'

She could see the cogs behind Anna's eyes beginning to slowly turn again, enough so that she got out: 'Well actually, Gerda did come.' As if that was it. Elsa still stared, waiting for the rest. Anna shifted uncomfortably, diverted her eyes from Elsa's and began to fidget with the corner of the blanket. 'Well, I heard her knock— _at whatever ungodly hour you have her wake you at_ —' She said in a hushed tone yet discernibly so, eyes still fixated on whatever was so fascinating about the tassels of the blanket. '—And I didn't want to wake you yet — it wasn't long after we had fallen asleep — I don't think… And so I sort of mentioned to Gerda that I was worried about you, and she agreed, and we sort of just, let you sleep?' The last three words had a distinctly Anna up-lilt attached to them — admission of guilt — which in that moment, was slightly more irritating than it was amusing— which it might have been on another day. Anna must have picked up on it because she amended with: 'But don't worry, Kai rearranged your schedule and it'll all be fine!'

She sighed and turned away to finish her hair. 'Anna, I said last night I have a lot of important things to get to today, I just can't—'

A knock at the door cut her off, and she turned instinctively— pins still in her mouth. 'Lunch, ladies.'

Elsa spun on Anna. ' _Lunch?!_ ' She hissed, nearly spitting out the pins. It came out more abrasive than she intended. Really, she just couldn't fathom that it was indeed, the middle of the day already— though Anna seemed entirely unsurprised. Of course, then this was her usual hour of wake wasn't it. She suspected, but didn't actually know. She didn't usually see Anna for most of the day until dinner— or maybe late afternoon— mostly due to her own hectic schedule, or Anna's sleeping habits? Maybe both. She wasn't sure.

'I'll get it!' Anna had already cart-wheeled off the bed in a whirlwind and was sprinting for the door.

Elsa instinctively reached for her robe, which was not on the chair. 'Anna why are you wearing my— you know what never mind.' She mumbled, nearly tripping over the chair on her way to the wardrobe to grab their mothers shawl, draping it over herself just as Anna reached the door.

'Gerda! What a surprise! Lunch? How nice! Come in, come in.' Anna's voice pittered as she bobbed in the doorway. Gerda had not regularly brought meals since the new staff had been hired shortly after the coronation, nor did Anna ever jump to answer the door— and this had her written all over it.

'Afternoon dears.' Came Gerda's cheerful voice. She entered, holding a large tray full of all sorts of things Elsa could not make out— but she could smell them, and she realized just how hungry she actually was. 'Ah, good to see you're still in one piece dear.' Gerda winked at Anna. 'And you are looking loads better after some much needed rest sweetie.' Gerda appraised Elsa while she set the tray on the table.

Elsa shot a look at Anna. 'Yes, I daresay I've just had the best sleep of my life.' Anna pretended to ignore her, Gerda coming to her rescue:

'Now, we have eggs, toasted eggy bread, fruit, juice, tea, and pancakes for you sweetie.' Gerda motioned to Anna. Anna could eat five stacks of pancakes and be entirely unfazed. She had always marveled at Anna's capacity to eat— one trait they definitely did not share. 'Made it all myself, can't trust the kitchen staff to make it the way I do.'

Elsa couldn't help but smile at that, her resolve to stay irritated at Anna melting quickly. 'All of our favorites, thank you Gerda, you really didn't have to.'

'No trouble at all sweetie.' Gerda took another long glance at Elsa. 'Ah, lovely to see that again.' Elsa looked down quizzically to what Gerda had motioned at. 'With that on, you look just like her dear.' Gerda smiled with sad, distant eyes. She took a deep breath and blinked several times. 'Right, you girls enjoy your day. Call if you need anything.'

'Thanks Gerda!' Anna called as she made a beeline for the small table by the window where the food sat. Elsa took off the shawl, folded it neatly and draped it carefully on the back of the chair.

'Glad to see you still have your usual appetite, even after being concussed.' Elsa jested, marveling at how quickly Anna had managed to get food into her mouth.

'Ha. Ha.' Anna retorted, crumbs falling from her mouth as she gave Elsa a snide look, just in time for her to shove more food in.

Elsa paused over Anna, parting her hair to check the lump: 'Well it looks much better today at least.' She said it more to herself than to Anna.

'Gud, gud.' Anna managed to get out between swallows.

'Can you breathe while you do that?'

Anna struggled to swallow too large a bite. 'It's a special talent.'

'I can see that.' Elsa chuckled, sat down and poured herself some tea. She reached for the syrup to pour on the eggy bread and they existed in silence for a few moments as Elsa cut up the toast. The only time she could remember Anna ever being totally silent was when she was either eating or sleeping.

The food did look amazing and she was eager to get into it. Her first bite was nearly to her mouth when— 'Anna!' Elsa jumped surprised. Anna had let out a loud belch. Elsa looked from Anna to the empty plate before her and back to Anna. 'You're finished already?' Elsa asked incredulously, her own fork still hovering inches in front of her face.

Anna let out a nervous laugh and covered her mouth. 'Guess I was hungrier than I realized?'

'Amazing.' Elsa marveled and shook her head, finally getting some food into her own mouth.

Anna, free once more to talk now that her food was put away, came out with: 'Elsa, you're not really mad about all this are you?' She was hopeful, just a bit pleading and it was in those particular looks, when Anna gave them as she had just done, that Elsa knew she could never be truly mad at Anna over anything. She shook her head and finished chewing.

'No, no of course not.' She paused to sip the tea. 'I'm grateful actually, if you want to know the truth. This is nice.' She gestured around herself. 'Not having to be somewhere every second, not being tired, enjoying a meal with you instead of rushing off to a meeting.' She stabbed another bite of bread. 'So thank you, really Anna.' She smiled and gestured to the food. 'This is amazing by the way.'

'I know, Gerda's cooking is so good isn't it?' Anna reached for a raspberry and popped it into her mouth. 'It always made me sad that she and Kai couldn't have children. I think she would've been a really great mom.'

'Mm, I agree.' Elsa swallowed. 'And Kai a great father as well. You know, he was really the one who trained me for all this.' She gestured around herself. 'After Mama and Papa's accident, when he became regent, he worked with me every day. I shadowed him and he pushed me to act and make decisions as if I were already Queen. It was extremely uncomfortable in the beginning, but it got easier, and I learned so much.' She took another sip of tea and glanced out the window. The puffin colonies peppered the mountainside like snow. 'Before that, everything I had learned from Papa was so abstract to me, I understood it, but I suppose I just assumed Papa would live forever and I would never have to put any of it into practice… At least not this soon.'

Anna was silent for a long moment. 'Elsa, no one should have to deal with all of this at your age.' Her eyes were communicating far more than she had said.

'Well.' Another sip of tea. 'I suppose we are where we are, and must make the best of it.'

Anna nodded, pondering her thoughts. 'Do you think Kai knew? About your powers I mean?'

Elsa considered before answering. 'It's possible, I suppose. My control was never perfect…obviously, and he and Gerda had stayed here after the gates closed. But if he did, he never let on.'

Anna's brow furrowed and she appeared still deep in thought. 'Elsa, have you ever tried to find out…' She paused, seemingly unsure if she should continue. 'You know, maybe it would help if you could find out more about yourself?' She left it there, but Elsa knew what she meant.

Elsa nodded. 'I have tried. I think about it a lot actually, why I was born this way.' She wasn't yet ready to disclose just how obsessively and frequently she did think about it. But Anna's rare fixated silence compelled her for more. 'I've probably read every book in that library about anything even remotely related to ice.' She chuckled. 'I didn't really find anything promising.'

Anna's brow furrowed again. 'And Mama and Papa didn't know _anything?_ ' Her eyes never left her plate. It was an accusation, but it wasn't directed at Elsa.

'Not that they shared.' She offered, mildly caught off guard by Anna's sudden demeanor shift.

Anna's brow creased further and her lips pursed as she looked out the window. Silent again. Elsa understood.

'Anna, don't be mad at them.' She paused, but got no reaction so she continued, 'I believe they did the best they could.'

'I'm not mad.' Her face and tone suggested otherwise, but she sighed. 'I just… I just wish I remembered more, that's all. Maybe I could help you more then. I get so frustrated at them sometimes for how they handled everything.' She threw her hands up and dropped them in her lap. After a minute: 'Sorry.'

'Don't be. Anna, I have had bad moments about this too, being angry at them. Angry at myself for shutting you out. You deserved so much better than all of us lying to you for years. There were so many times I nearly told you…' She paused. 'So many… I wish I had…' She felt her voice trail off and she looked down, unable to meet Anna's eyes.

'Elsa you were a little girl!' She looked up, startled at Anna's sudden outburst. 'This is not on you at all, this is Mama and Papa's fault!' The words hung suspended in the air. There it was. Finally. Anna had risen from her chair and was standing hunched, breathing heavily. She needed to get this out— even if she was still willing to ignore the complicit part Elsa had played in the entire deception. So she said nothing.

Anna took a deep breath, suddenly seeming as surprised as Elsa had been at the outburst. Her eyes were shifty and she came out with: 'Elsa… I didn't mean— I hate that you blame yourself for any of this, please… That's not what this is about…' Her voice trailed off, pain and confusion cast across her face.

Elsa looked her directly in the eyes, 'Even if it is— it's ok.' And she meant it.

Anna just stood there, staring at the half eaten tray, her eyes distant. Her braids were still disheveled, the sleeves of Elsa's robe hung down over her hands, nearly swallowing her shorter frame. She looked remarkably like she had as a small child— innocent, tiny and vulnerable and something inside Elsa broke. Anna turned to the window and tried to cover the welling tears, but Elsa had seen. She had always seen, always known.

'Anna, shhh it's ok.' She said, standing to pull Anna in to a tight hug. Anna buried her face deep in Elsa's neck, and she could feel her sobs even as she tried to hold back. 'You have a right to feel whatever you're feeling. Anger at Mama and Papa, anger at me— it's ok.' Elsa stroked her hair, (careful to avoid the bump).

'I just,' A deep breath in— 'I just missed you so much.' A long exhale of sobs. 'Maybe, maybe I _was_ mad about that— It just hurt so much Elsa, and I didn't understand— and I just needed you so badly.' Her sobs were wracking now and Elsa closed her eyes, blinking back her own tears as she squeezed Anna tighter.

'I know, I know.' She spoke quietly, softly. It seemed all she could say. Because she did know, she did.

They stayed that way for a long moment, locked together. Elsa pressed her cheek into Anna's hair, willing the years of pain and loneliness to leave her. If they stayed that way for long enough, perhaps it would. Anna's breathing slowly returned to normal and she pulled away, wiping her eyes. 'Uhhhh,' She sniffed and reached for a handkerchief on the table. 'This is not how I wanted this day to go.' She blew her nose.

Elsa just stood and gave her a soft smile. 'Well, if I've learned anything, it's that concealing and tamping down emotions is absolutely never the answer.' This got Anna to smile.

'So, what are we doing today then?' Anna looked at her quizzically. 'Well without work I don't know what to do with myself,' Elsa snatched a blackberry off the table and popped it in her mouth. 'Any suggestions?' The smile on Anna's face widened and she glanced out the window. Snow had started to fall. Her eyes lit up as her gaze returned to Elsa:

'Do you wanna build a snowman?'


	4. Chapter 4: Sedition

His knees were sore from kneeling in this ridiculous place. But he could wait, he would wait another hour if he had to, just to be absolutely sure there would be no suspicion. He was patient, and smart— if nothing else, that had always set himself apart from the others, set him above— had given him the edge he needed to rise to the prominent position he now rightly found himself in. But he could rise higher still, and that day was coming in short order. The timing was ripe and his moment had finally arrived, if he played his cards right— which he would. He adjusted his weight from one knee to the other, clasped his hands in prayer, scrunched his eyebrows dramatically and continued to look down as if in deep, painful penance. He was a good actor. That was another thing that added to his competence— getting others to believe what he wanted them too. If there was such a God, that was possibly the most useful gift it had blessed him with. Or more likely, he had just honed his own excellent skills at diplomacy and politics.

He really hated church, quite frankly. The whole institution of it was a ruse, contriving ones entire being and actions around some invisible force no one had any proof actually existed. It was ridiculous. Men walked the earth, and it was men who shaped the past present and future, not some nameless deity who forced the gullible populace to eat stale bread and repent for simply being human. One big farce. Of course he could never admit to any of that, it was all about politics and appearance and he had to appear just as devout and mindless as all the other fools when it came to religion. He could change all that once he had enough power, so he would suffer it for the moment.

The doors shut in the back of the chapel, echoing around the now empty pews and high apse. He suspected the last couple had just let themselves out. After mid-morning service, when everyone would rush home to lunch, is when he wanted to do this. He could say he was discussing the sermon in depth with the bishop afterwards, if anyone should ask, which they probably wouldn't. And there would be no eavesdroppers or onlookers. No one would question his presence in church in the middle of the day, far less conspicuous than the idiots he'd known who tried to arrange clandestine meetings in the middle of the night. They were always found out. He was smarter than that.

The queen also, had taken ill that morning, so she had not been in attendance— not that she often attended weekday service anyway— but all the better that she was no where in the vicinity. Perhaps the illness was serious enough to decommission her permanently— that would surely be a welcome turn of events. But luck was not in his game plan— patience and strategy were. He had waited for his moment, and here it had delivered itself to him. They would have at least an hour or two before the Bishop needed to prepare for evening mass. More than enough time.

As if on cue, Bishop Eyvind came out of the rectory behind the altar and began clearing items from the pulpit.

Another absurdity of this religion. Why an all powerful being would anoint a cloying, frail little old man like Bishop Eyvind to be his word on Earth? It was unfortunate enough that he needed to involve the good Bishop in his plans, but in the twisted nature of his current reality, the church held as much power as the state, and he would need the full power of the church behind him for this.

'Lord Krogh.' He looked up at the bishop, motioned the sign of the cross but remained kneeling in his pew for good measure. 'Something troubling you my son?'

'Bishop Eyvind.' He stood and walked up to the pulpit where the bishop was collecting the items. 'It's as if you read my very mind. I have been troubled as of late…' He lowered his voice. 'What you said in your sermon the other day, about witchcraft— has, unsettled me.'

The bishops brow furrowed. 'Tell me what's troubling you, my child.'

He glanced around for effect even though he knew the church was empty. 'I'm afraid I am somewhat reluctant to discuss it…'

The curious bishop took his bait. 'Ah, please come, come.' Eyvind motioned him to follow into the small rectory behind the altar.

'Please, let me help you with that.' He took the large candelabra from the Bishop and followed him around to the door that led to the rectory.

Once inside, he set down the candelabra. It was a dark musty little room. Oppressive, like the religion itself. He had been coming to this stave church all his life, yet he had never once come into this little room. Ideally he never would again.

'Please sit.' The bishop motioned to a chair, he did as asked and Bishop Eyvind sat across from him. 'Now, tell me what's on your mind, there is nothing to be ashamed of.'

The only thing he was ashamed of was the musty stink of incense emanating off the Bishop, but he ignored it. 'I confess, this is a… delicate subject. My conscience has been in a constant state of upset these past months over this, and perhaps you can ease it for me.'

'Go on.'

He cleared his throat. 'To quote a passage from your sermon:' He pulled out the small bible from his cloak and opened an earmarked page. ' _Idolatry, sorcery, enmity, strife, fits of anger, dissensions and things like these. I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.'_ He turned to another page. ' _A man or a woman who is a sorceress or a necromancer shall surely be put to death. They shall be stoned with stones; their blood shall be upon them. Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, he has rejected you as king.'_ He closed the bible and let the last words sink in.

'I've noticed that many of your recent sermons have been laced with passages and warnings about the evils of sorcery and witchcraft. Is there any reason for that?'

The bishop looked only slightly uncomfortable, something a less astute person may have missed, but he had seen it. 'Sorcery, witchcraft and necromancy are in direct opposition to the word of the Lord. I have been called to remind the people of Arendelle of this most primal fact.' He lowered his voice. 'Several people have come to me in similar states of anxious dissent such as yourself. There has been much talk of sorcery since it was revealed that our queen herself is… different. The people cannot reconcile that a divinely appointed monarch would possess sorcery. That the God whom condemns witchcraft would indeed appoint the ruler of our great kingdom with such powers. It is causing deep unrest and divisiveness, people are questioning the very fabric of our existence— of our religion and that can get very dangerous.'

Working with Bishop Eyvind was going to be much easier than he had anticipated. The good bishop was clearly unnerved about the queens abilities himself— probably more so about the holes a magical divinely appointed monarch could punch in his carefully constructed religious tapestry. Hiccups in the religious narrative never boded well for the church and Eyvind knew this. He could lose his followers, parish, status and livelihood. Eyvind was clearly desperate for an ally— and that he could provide.

'I agree, and I confess that I have come to you seeking similar guidance on how to—' He chose his words carefully. '—Understand our new queen. I have noticed the unrest as well, there is a clear division amongst the people. Those who were devoutly loyal to Agnarr and Iduna are more willing to accept their daughter—magical or not— whilst rejecting the word of the Lord. Others— and there are those who were directly affected by her magic— are far less accepting, frightened even. They call for a return to the era of King Runeard, where magic and witchcraft were vehemently condemned— punishable by death even.' He allowed the last statement to marinate with the bishop.

'Runeard was a great King, a great friend of mine. There was much order and peace during his reign.' The bishop was wistful now, almost sad. 'It was the work of the devil, how that pagan tribe of savages ended his life— during peace negotiations no less. Typical. Paganism is the root of all witchcraft and should be condemned with the same severity.'

'We are on the same page Your Eminence. I believe, should we desire to steer the realm back in that most noble direction, that we would be supported on multiple avenues.'

The Bishop leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his protruding belly. 'Go on.'

Krogh produced a pamphlet and placed it on the table in front of Eyvind. Eyvind smiled. ' _Daemonologie. A Treatise on the Identification and Subjugation of Daemons and Witches._ I thought Agnarr had all these books destroyed?'

'He did. Agnarr was not his father unfortunately. No, this I received from Earl Rutland of Wessex. It appears that when the news of our queen's abilities reached Britannia, it rekindled King James'— apprehension— about witches. Word is he has become paranoid about the threat a magical monarch poses to his reign and has started recirculating _Daemonologie._ There has also been an upsurge of witch trials and executions in Britain.'

The bishop stared at him for a long moment, then thumbed through the pamphlet. 'A resurgence of Runeard's noble policies backed by the King of England and the church of Arendelle— would hold much weight.' He looked up from the pamphlet, a twinkle in his eye. 'Agnarr's reign started off poorly and ended worse. Marrying Iduna was his first mistake— not only was she a commoner, but she poisoned him against his fathers policies if you ask me. And then of course— she gave birth to the current complication.' The bishop was tipping his hand— unwise this early in the game, but he could reciprocate— some.

'Of course, I pledge my full support and those of the other nobles with whom I have sway. The queen, for her part has proven— difficult. She is very perceptive and astute. I've watched her closely for some time now— little escapes her notice. I believe I have some rapport with her, but she has a very tight inner circle. It has been difficult to penetrate that. And her policies and proposals are as radical as the magic she possesses — equalizing property rights for women, banning the slave trade — all nonsensical threats to an already well functioning society.'

Eyvind raised an eyebrow. 'All salient points that will help further this cause— but tread carefully Lord Krogh. You have my support, but deposing a monarch is rarely done— for good reason. The civil unrest it leaves in its wake can cause devastation, even war.' He paused, closed his eyes and made the sign of the cross. 'I would never have administered her coronation rites had I been privy to the knowledge of the sorcery she possesses.' He brought the crucifix necklace up to his lips and kissed it, eyes again closed as if in penance.

So, the bishop was holding himself at least partially responsible for placing a sorceress on the throne of Arendelle. Coming far closer to doing the devils work than a man of god dared to go, Krogh assumed. Of course the people had no way of knowing whether or not their beloved bishop knew of the queens powers before he coronated her. Yes, it was entirely possible that the good bishop himself was getting backlash for crowning a magical queen. That was most useful information.

'What of the young princess?'

Krogh waved a dismissive hand. 'The princess has been cordoned off in the castle, too preoccupied with suitors and young romance to pay much notice to anything else. Least of all politics. She is definitely not of her sister— the kingdom adores her though.'

Eyvind smiled, it was almost a wicked smile— so very out of place on a man of god. 'Perhaps our very adored, very malleable non-magical young princess is the answer god has given us.'

Krogh could now feel the smile spread on his own lips as the words sunk in. Perhaps the bishop wasn't as useless as he'd initially suspected. Getting the sister on the throne could probably be done, with relatively little resistance. Gaining her trust and ultimately control over her would also most likely be much easier than it had proven to be with her sister. He had seen how easily that interloper from the Southern Isles had gained the naïve princesses trust— and he himself was Arendellian. He would not make the same mistakes. And if that didn't work, it would still be far, far easier to dispose of a non-magical child queen then it would be to dispose of the current ice queen. Patience, was all he needed.


End file.
